


chances missed; chances taken

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [158]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, just because it's a dream doesn't mean it's not real, the atmosphere of this was very fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Newt and Hermann meet in a dream.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [158]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Kudos: 16





	chances missed; chances taken

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Prompt: “Newton, did you ever love me?" No, Newt should say. "Yes, he whispers instead, "but it was a mistake." That, at least, is the absolute truth."

The links creak as he swings back and forth; the whine of metal on metal piercing through the still, heavy air; his hands slipping a bit as he swings back and forth, warm and sweaty. As he comes down, his boots dig into the wood chips. Faded yellow caution tape flutters in a non-existent breeze on the scraggly grass that grows right up to the edge of the wood chips.

He pulls his hands away from the chains; rubs them against his ripped skinny-jeans to try and get them dry. It doesn’t do anything. He sighs, shallow, and grasps the chains again, even though he doesn’t need to; he’s not swinging very fast, but even if he was, he wouldn’t fall off.

Why an abandoned playground, he doesn’t know; if it were up to him, it’d be…well. He doesn’t know what it would be; just not this. But it isn’t up to him, so it’s an abandoned playground. At least there’s swings, even if he’s a bit old to be sitting on them.

Newt laughs a little; silently; because shit like “too old” has never stopped him before and it sure as fuck isn’t going to _now._

Vaguely, he wonders what he’s doing here. It’s, like, not a _bad_ thing to have a change of scenery, admittedly, but. It’s _unusual._ As in, “first time it’s happened” sort of unusual. Last he remembers, he was jerking into half-lucidity for a bare few seconds, and then…gone.

“Hello?” he calls; just for the kick of it. He’s not going to get anything back, obviously, but it isn’t exactly going to _hurt_ anyone. He winces at his voice; it’s back to the high squeak of his time with the Black Velvet Rabbits, lacking the depth he’s gained naturally as he’s gotten older. Well—high _er_ anyway, because even at age forty-five, he’s aware that his voice isn’t exactly _low._

The clouds on the horizon darken minutely; the air growing thicker; and Newt cringes. Okay, so, maybe there _are_ consequences.

Wait—actually, the clouds aren’t darkening. That’s a human figure—far off, but getting closer. Newt’s eyes widen, involuntary; and he nervously licks his lips. This is unheard of, too. He tightens his grip on the chains incrementally.

And then—there he is. Newt draws a sharp breath. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says; meaning it to sound questioning, maybe accusative; but instead it just comes out a bit weak, and he can’t meet Hermann’s eyes.

Hermann grimaces; lips drawn into a thin line. “No,” he says. “No, I shouldn’t.”

“So why…?”

“Who knows,” Hermann shrugs. “Perhaps this is a shared dream.”

“Through the Drift? But…” _that’s not possible,_ he’s about to say; and then he remembers Hermann’s voice; low and hesitant: _I’ve been having…_ nightmares. Hermann’s lips curl like he knows exactly what Newt’s thinking. “Right,” he says; instead; awkward. “Okay. Um…do you want to sit down?”

A startled look crosses the physicist’s face. “On a swing?”

“Well—yeah, I guess…nevermind…”

“No, I'll—” Hermann purses his lips even tighter; rubs the head of his cane with his thumb; takes the last few steps and lowers himself onto the swing next to Newt. The weight makes the chains of his swing whine as well, and the sound joins the whine of Newt’s.

The silence stretches between them; awkward and thick; neither talking nor bickering. Fuck—that’s what’s missing; but he doesn’t know how to bring back that ease between them, the back and forth; matching beat for beat, the way they used to effortlessly be able to.

He swallows. “How long do you think we’ll be here?” His voice comes out more of a croak than anything; but Hermann understands him; shrugs, wordlessly.

They sit, silently, there; for how long, Newt doesn’t know—then again, he’s not sure time really is real, if this is a dream, the Drift, whatever; just the whine of metal and the weight of an impending storm that he somehow knows isn’t going to come; or, if it does, it won’t be rain.

He clears his throat. “Did you…”

“Get them out?” Hermann smiles; but it’s not terribly nice; more like a baring of teeth than anything. “Yes. I…I hope— _think_ so.”

He catches himself quickly; but the slip is enough that Newt notices it. “You got knocked into here before you had the chance to find out,” he guesses.

The twist of Hermann’s face, just for a beat, is enough to give him away. “It shouldn’t be long,” he mutters. He rises; takes a few steps over to Newt’s side, the dark of his cane juxtaposed with the yellow-beige of the woodchips. His gaze flicks across Newt’s face; quickly. “You’ll be…you’ll be alright.”

He says it with a finality; _you_ must _be alright._

Newt drops his gaze to his hands. “I’m surprised you didn’t stop,” he mutters. “You could’ve just…let me go.”

Hermann huffs. “You’re too entwined in my heart for me to allow that,” he says; tone even, but his shoulders are tense when Newt looks up.

“You loved me,” he says; sudden; because he’s only just realised it, really, in the full momentum of it. “That’s…stupid.”

“As if I had a _choice,_ ” Hermann says; quietly; “you…you made yourself a part of my life in every way humanly possible.”

“God.” Newt laughs; a bit; and then: “I…can’t believe I didn’t know that.”

“You do tend to be insanely oblivious to some things,” Hermann says, drily.

“Yeah. Yeah, I—”

“Newton, did you ever love me?”

Hermann’s words are sudden; and they seem to surprise him just as much as it does Newt. “I—apologies. That was…uncalled for. You don’t have to—”

“I—” _No,_ Newt should say. “Yes,” he whispers, instead, “but it was a mistake.” That, at least, is the absolute truth.

Hermann’s face crumples. “Oh,” he says. “That—”

“It was a mistake then,” Newt says; steamrolling on; because he knows, knows that if he stops talking, Hermann will draw in on himself— “it was a mistake then, because I wasn’t willing to face my feelings and then…and then you were gone.”

He lets go of the chains and stands up; chunky black boots digging the dry wood chips up and revealing the darker, damper layer beneath. Hermann eyes him. “Then?”

“Then,” Newt says. “Not…not after we get out. I mean. If you don’t think it would be a mistake.”

“I don’t think it would be,” Hermann murmurs; and holds a hand out to Newt. “If…you want.”

“I do,” Newt says; and takes his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
